


Bug

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16240331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis makes dinner for his charge and company.





	Bug

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

_Pizza_ wasn’t originally in his programming, but Ignis has had to make so many extensions and patches over the years that it no longer stands out—Noctis was unwilling to eat the vast majority of the foods that Ignis came pre-loaded with. As making sure Noctis survives, thus regularly consuming food, is Ignis’ primary function, additional programming was necessary. He still tries to ‘sneak’ as many vegetables into the pizza as he can—grinding fresh tomatoes, peppers, and garlic into the sauce, hiding more onions and olives under the cheese, and other such covert placement—because he also must make sure that Noctis consumes _healthy_ calories. It isn’t easy. But thus far, King Regis seems to approve of Ignis’ progress, so he continues to do the best he can.

He also organizes Noctis’ schedule, amongst a myriad of other duties, and tonight, he’s determined that Noctis has done enough of his university and council paperwork to merit a slot of ‘social’ time. Thus, Prompto is over, and the two of them are seated on the couch, loudly jeering and cheering each other on as they careen through a mindless video game. Ignis has mastered such pursuits in the interest of entertaining Noctis, but Prompto can actually _enjoy_ it, and thus he must make better company. Noctis certainly seems to be having fun. Even though _fun_ isn’t technically programmed to be on Ignis’ radar, he can’t help but feel a certain... contentedness... when he knows that Noctis is happy.

It’s a ludicrous notion, of course. Ignis doesn’t _have_ feelings. He can’t. He exists only in objective fact. Ignis is finely dicing vegetables. Noctis and Prompto are in the living room. Noctis and Prompto are both smiling. Prompto’s yellow hair is washed brighter in the orange sunset, and his eyes shine bluer in the glow of the television screen. Neither of them can work their controller as fast as Ignis can. 

Their game reaches an unfortunate end as Ignis finishes the second onion. It tickles his tear ducts, but as they’re fully automated, he can refrain from allowing them to leak water-like lubricant. Though his gaze is focused on his board, he keeps track of everything in his peripherals. He expects Noctis’ groan before it comes—Prompto whines, “Not again!” and throws his head back in distress.

“Fuck this game,” Noctis grumbles, setting off Ignis’ internal sensors: now Noctis is upset, which registers as unacceptable, but Ignis examines the situation and overrides the alert. Disappointment at reaching a ‘game over’ in a virtual world is a normal response for a human male of Noctis’ age. The poor mood, so long as it lasts no longer than nine and a half minutes, is acceptable. Ignis sprinkles the onions over the circular dough and fetches the cheese.

He can hear Noctis rising off the couch. “Imma get another one—Gladio lent me his old Kingdom Hearts copy; wanna try it?”

“Like, the original?” Prompto responds. “I thought they updated the controls; shouldn’t we get the remake?”

“I don’t have the remake, I’ve got the original.”

Ignis internally accesses the internet. The remake is available for online purchase. But its download time is longer than Noctis would likely want to wait, and the price is higher than what he currently has left of his weakly allowance. So Ignis says nothing and just grates cheese.

“Yeah, alright. Switch on death, then? You can go first.”

“A.k.a., you won’t get to play tonight,” Noctis laughs. Then he’s heading past the kitchen towards his bedroom, where he disappears to sort through his mess for the right disk. It should take some time, given that Ignis hasn’t cleaned his room in several weeks—Ignis has learned that if he withholds cleaning long enough, Noctis will relent and do it. Cleanliness is a valuable life skill that Noctis will need to grow more comfortable with. Unfortunately, in the meantime, Ignis’ strike means Prompto will be waiting longer.

For a few minutes, Prompto sits in silence. But then he comes over to the island in the center of the kitchenette, and though he isn’t Ignis’ charge, Ignis looks over at him should he need anything.

Prompto offers a sheepish, “Hi,” like he often does when he’s garnered Ignis’ attention. Ignis even notes that his cheeks are a few degrees pinker than usual. He asks, “Is it really okay if I stay for dinner?”

“I can neither give you permission to stay nor retract it,” Ignis answers, though he would council against it if he felt Noctis had more work to do. Prompto scratches the back of his head, eyes looking away. As his jacket sleeve rides down with the movement, Ignis notes the green-white wristband that seems ever-present on him. In the span of a split second, Ignis wonders if Prompto ever washes it, then if he should offer to do so, then if it’s appropriate of him to offer his services to others outside of the Crown. He was commissioned by the king, but Prompto is now part of Noctis’ life, and thus surely his well-being is a legitimate concern of Ignis’. It’s only logical that Ignis continually feels compelled to ensure Prompto’s wellness. 

“I guess... but I mean, like... you’re the one doing the cooking...”

“Doubling the proportions is not difficult.” And that way he can also ensure that Prompto eats well. Prompto seems relatively in shape and admirably healthy, but he also consumes the same ‘junk’ food as Noctis when they’re together. Although, perhaps that’s Noctis’ poor influence. Perhaps Ignis should be protecting Prompto from Noctis. But that’s an absurd thought and Ignis files it away for later dissection. 

Prompto smiles up at him. It’s another thing that makes Ignis’ programming stumble like it’s short-circuiting. Prompto tells him softly, “Thanks, Iggy. I really appreciate it. You’re a really great cook. And, like... you keep everything so organized, and you think of everything, and you’re really good company... Noct’s super lucky to have you around.” The more Prompto talks, the wider his smile seems to be, the more his eyes seem to twinkle, the more memory space Ignis dedicates to the video capture of this moment. Then Ignis becomes aware of a strange heat inside his stomach.

He must be malfunctioning. It’s the only explanation. He makes a mental note to run a self diagnostic after dinner.

Aloud, he says, “Thank you, Prompto.” And Prompto beams at him.

Noctis chooses then to return with his game. If Ignis had emotions, he’d be grateful for it. The last two times he suspected a similar malfunction, it was also in conjuncture with proximity to Prompto. Noctis drags Prompto back to the couch, obliviously asking, “Ready to go?”


End file.
